


Wishful Living

by lovelybluemoon



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I'm back yall, Kym and Will are mentioned like once, Lauki!!!, Mild Hurt/Comfort, OCs - Freeform, PTSD, Song - death bed(coffee for your head) by Powfu, Songfic, Then justifies it with the old "it's for your own good", Tristan acting like an asshole, coffee watches over all, mental illness if you squint, oh and this will be v confusing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27429328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelybluemoon/pseuds/lovelybluemoon
Summary: Read while listening toDeath BedbyPowfu. Loop as many times as it takes to get to the end! Or if you'd like, play any angsty song of your choice.The OCs used in this story are my peeps, I hold their copyrights, and all that jazz.TW: PTSD, Character death, heart disease, forced banishment/expulsion among relatives, implied mental illnessRead the tags and mind the trigger warnings listed above please!
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White
Comments: 16
Kudos: 35





	Wishful Living

**Author's Note:**

> Read while listening to [Death Bed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jJPMnTXl63E) by [Powfu](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCmR-xOM0ZjY1cPdFp2WXT4g). Loop as many times as it takes to get to the end! Or if you'd like, play any angsty song of your choice.
> 
> The OCs used in this story are my peeps, I hold their copyrights, and all that jazz. 
> 
> TW: PTSD, Character death, heart disease, forced banishment/expulsion among relatives, implied mental illness  
> Read the tags and mind the trigger warnings listed above please!

_Don’t stay awake for too long_

_Don’t go to bed_

_I’ll make a cup of coffee for your head_

_I’ll get you up and going out of bed_

_\---_

The cold grey of the stone ceiling met Kieran’s tranquil cerulean eyes. Hazy morning light peeked in through the barred window, tickling his skin and kissing his lashes. 

Squinting at the brightness, he groaned softly and turned in his small cot, the thin layer of bedding doing little to ease his discomfort.

His face was thrown back into shadow, but he could still see the sunlight stretching lazily across the floor, trying to keep his attention. 

Mouth falling open in a yawn, he inhaled the cool, albeit slightly stale, air of his cell. Lacking the desire to move into the rest of the day, he lay there quietly and observed the specks of dust drifting in and out of sight. His emotions constantly confused themselves these days, imprisonment had done a number on him. 

This had become routine, this waking up every day to grey stone walls, held captive in a space that was much too small for his liking. No longer obligated to do anything but remain imprisoned, he now had all the time in the world to drown in the darker, desperate underworld in his head. 

The sun and moon, the stars and clouds blurred into one smooth river flowing outside his window. Kieran felt bitterly towards the freedom teasing him, taunting him while dancing just out of reach.

_He had too much time._

Ironic.

He didn’t deserve this. 

As he reluctantly rose from the nest of blankets and the warm imprint of his body against the mattress, the sunlight danced over his desk. It left a white, gleaming streak on the porcelain side of a coffee mug, put there by Kieran the night before. 

_The cup was empty._

\---

_I don’t wanna fall asleep,_

_I don’t wanna pass away_

_I been thinking of our future ‘cause I’ll never see those days_

_\---_

“Who is she?” 

A soft, feminine voice reached his ear, his head snapping up from graphite and paper to regard the soldier outside his cell. Her curious brown eyes were fixed on the countless portraits piling in the corners, on his small desk.

“She’s…”

Kieran hesitated, the silent action bringing him back to silver moonlight and golden eyes staring at him in bewilderment. 

How could he describe her to a stranger, how could he put the painfully wonderful complications of their relationship into words? 

_She’s a goddess,_ he wanted to say. _She’s the most beautiful, intelligent, stubborn being I’ve ever met. But most of all--she’s_ mine. _She loves me. And I love her, so much that it hurts._

Instead, he said--

“She’s waiting for me.”

Sweet fondness was evident in his tone as he returned his gaze to the sheet, his pencil adding another loving stroke on the paper. 

“I see.”

_The cup was empty._

\---

_I don’t know why this has happened_

_But I probably deserve it_

_I tried to do my best_

_But you know that I’m not perfect_

_\---_

The last few years felt absolutely surreal, some days he would wake up and think that nothing had happened. He would not remember his crimes, the night in the cave, the Scythe’s rise and downfall. Sometimes he’d forget, but then the memories would all come rushing back, like the pain reclaiming an addict after the sweet, oblivious high had ended. It hurt, every single time. 

And he _knew_ he didn’t deserve this. Life behind bars was too great a mercy bestowed on someone like him, someone whose hands could never, ever be cleaned of bloodred sin. 

_It_ had all ended years ago, but it always came back to haunt him. 

At some point, when _it_ settled in the dark grooves of his mind, it stayed.

_Stayed, stayed, stayed…_

  
  


_\---_

_I been praying for forgiveness_

_You’ve been praying for my health_

_When I leave this earth_

_Hoping you’ll find someone else_

_\---_

One night, as he was about to retire from his desk, the same guard appeared just outside the bars of his cage. Her mocha-dark eyes lingered upon his drawings once more, while he waited for her to speak.

“Do you miss her?”

He studied the girl, young and innocent. She seemed barely in her twenties, maybe even a late teenager. Wiry and petite, her short tousled hair brushed her shoulders and disappeared into her helmet. Her weight was leaning one way, the hefty sword strapped to her waist causing the imbalance. 

Something about her reminded Kieran of himself, once upon a time. When he was still pure and untouched by the evil in his world. 

“I do,” he murmured, picking up one of his more recent sketches to bring it into the circle of lamplight in his cell. Deciding to impart a bit more, hoping that maybe telling someone else about the heartache roiling in his chest would help ease the pain. “Listen, there’s something she should know. I want to tell her every time she comes to visit, but lately things have been keeping her busy.”

“Would you like me to deliver a message to her?” The guard asked him, a curious light shining in her eyes. Her eagerness brought about a warm feeling of platonic adoration in his gut, tugging the corners of his lips into a smile.

Shaking his head, he replied,

“No, but thank you. I just thought… maybe it would make me feel better to talk to someone.”

A nod of understanding was all it took to lessen his uncertainty of the girl, his features melted into a relaxed smile. 

“I hope I was able to help.”

Opening a locked flap at the corner of the bars, she slid her hands through to extract his food tray. Tapping the side of the empty coffee mug, she looked up at him.

“Do you want a refill?”

“Always.”

_The cup was empty._

\---

_‘Cause yeah, we still young there’s so much we haven’t done_

_Getting married, start a family_

_Watch your husband with his son_

_\---_

The next morning was the same, the mug once again empty, sitting atop his desk. But today he moved his chair to sit by the small window, watching the city of Ardhalis beginning to stir and wake stories below.

He tried not to think about the faintest of bloodstains tinting the stone floor out in the hall, from the mass murder he had caused in this very place years ago. Instead, he redirected his wandering attention to the longing he felt, trotting back and forth between the impromptu window seat and his drawing corner. 

.

.

.

  
  


Soon, he was perched on the edge of the chair, looking between his paper and the view that the window provided. He drew until his body began to protest from the cramped position he had assumed. Blowing his hair out of his eyes, Kieran stood, stretching to his full height and wincing as several joints cracked.

His fatigue prompted him to retire early, tiredly depositing the drawing of the city beside one of Lauren. Drowsy eyes roamed over her drawn features, his heart aching for her. 

“I miss you, darling.”

She did not respond. 

Giving one last yawn, he checked his coffee mug before lumbering to his cot.

_The cup was empty._

  
  


_\---_

_I wish it could be me_

_But I won’t make it off this bed_

_I hope I go to heaven_

_So I see you once again_

_\---_

The guard was there to greet him the next morning.

“Good morning, mister,” she chirped. “Slept well?” 

He responded with a sleepy groan which she chuckled at, and slid his breakfast tray through the flap.

“You’re early,” He pointed out. “What’s the occasion?” 

“There is no occasion. I just thought you could use an early meal, because the food’s better that way. The cook likes to make sure of it, for some unknown reason.”

A grin spread across his face as he reached for the tray, eyes becoming more alert.

“First come first served, I see.”

The girl’s eyes twinkled with mirth as she replied.

“Yes, exactly! And today is your lucky day--I managed to snag the very first dishes this morning.”

She watched as he reached for his coffee. When he looked up from his meal and realized that she hadn’t moved, he cocked his head curiously.

“Is there something wrong?” 

“Oh, no, no! I… you seemed a bit-- _downcast_ , yesterday. I just wanted to ask if you were alright?”

Her concern was touching, more so than he had expected. 

“Ah--yes, I was in a rather melancholy mood then, but I’m quite well now.”

Again, she lingered, fidgeting nervously. Kieran patiently waited for her to speak, his features remaining relaxed and kindly.

“Were you thinking of her?” 

As the question finally slipped past her lips, he paused. Of course he had been.

“...yes.”

When he responded, the girl’s ears turned pink and she dipped her head in thanks and farewell, before hurrying away.

Left in overlapping shades of amusement and confusion, he continued to leisurely sip his coffee.

_The cup was beginning to empty._

_\---_

_My life was kinda short_

_But I got so many blessings_

_Happy you were mine_

_It sucks that it’s all ending_

_\---_

_“Audrey!”_

Her head snapped up, eyes wildly searching for the speaker. Turning from her position in the hall, she saw her best friend standing at the end of the corridor. 

“Tori--hi--”

The girl waited for Audrey to join her before steering her out of the tower. 

“Were you talking to the Purple Hyacinth again?” 

Immediately, an indignant blush colored her cheeks.

“Victoria--well, _yes--_ but you _know_ I don’t like him that way--” 

“Oh honey, yes, _I know._ But I just don’t understand it, your obsession to converse with a killer. Hope you’re not trying to pick up any tips.” she interrupted, rolling her eyes and giving her friend a curious look. 

“Well, he’s very interesting. Yes, like you said, he was a murderer, but he’s still capable of human emotions. Just because he did horrible things doesn’t mean he’s a--I don’t know--a monster, whatever.” A small smile appeared on her lips. “He draws his beloved, Tori, it’s just so--so _heartwarming_ , he loves her so much. But it’s also heart _breaking_ \--he won’t be able to have his perfect ‘happily ever after.’” 

Victoria frowned slightly and gave a halfhearted nod of agreement. 

The two of them fell silent as they strolled down the street, further and further away from the prison. All the while, Audrey was thinking. There was a battle going on inside her, between her instinct and sensibility. It had been raging and consuming her thoughts for a long while. But today, one of them finally won out and took control of her decisiveness. Despite what she had just told her friend, some impossible hope rose in her.

  
_‘Maybe he_ could _get a happy ending...’_

_\---_

_I’m happy that you’re here with me_

_I’m sorry if I tear up_

_When me and you were younger_

_You would always make me cheer up_

_\---_

Kieran rubbed his eyes tiredly, trying to keep himself from drifting off. He needed to finish drawing--and perhaps another cup of coffee. Just then, he heard the somewhat-familiar patter of the guard’s footsteps from down the hall, approaching him. 

He tried to hold back a chuckle--he could tell the girl was trying her best to be quiet. But to his trained ears, it was as if she were running across the stone tiles with steel-toed boots. 

When her pale face appeared beyond the bars, he was already anticipating her gaze, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Oh! I--I didn’t think you might still be up,” she whispered. “H-here, I brought you some coffee.”

“Thanks, Audrey. I needed it.”

She passed the cup through the flap.

“Don’t stay away too long, okay? Be careful, and wake up early tomorrow.”

With those hushed words, she was gone, scurrying back the way she’d come, her figure retreating into the dark. 

A confused frown painted itself onto his face when he was left standing there in his cell, with only the coffee and his art. Giving a light shrug of his shoulders, he ambled over to grab the cup.

He’d barely taken a step back to his desk when he noticed that something was off. There was an unusual, metallic taste mingling with the bitter caffeine. Surely it wasn’t poison… was it? 

Cautiously reaching inside the cup, his fingers gently swirled the warm liquid until they brushed a solid object. The second they did, a jolt of shock, excitement and delicious fear passed through him. 

Feeling a grip on the object, he fished it out of the cup, careful not to drip any coffee on his precious drawings. 

  
  


It was a key.

.

.

.

  
  


_The cup was one sip short of full._

_\---_

_Taking goofy videos_

_While walking through the park_

_You would jump into my arms_

_Every time you heard a bark_

_\---_

_‘But_ why _can’t I see him anymore--?’_

_‘No--you’re sending me away? You can’t do this to me--_ I need him _\--’_

Lauren shot up from her bed in Sinclair Mansion, a loud, pained gasp shattering the moonlit silence of her bedroom. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, and her sheer white nightgown was drenched in a cold sweat. 

“No, no… I’m back now…” she breathed, settling a hand over her wildly thumping heart. 

Her happy dreams and burning nightmares of Dylan were gone, disappeared a long time ago. Only to be replaced with ones of Kieran. A bitter taste resided on her tongue, remembering the last time she had attempted to see him. 

After he had been taken into custody and locked in the tower, she’d gone to meet him countless times the first year. Then, Lauren had been forbidden to reach him by none other than her uncle. 

-

_“I’ll be back for dinner, uncle--” Lauren called over her shoulder as the front doors swung open, alerting Tristan. He said something in return, to acknowledge that he’d heard her, but his niece had already gone._

_As he prepared to head off to work, thoughts of Lauren’s constant visits to the tower crowded his mind, specifically the fact that his niece was with the Purple Hyacinth. His eyebrows knit tightly with contempt. It wasn’t safe for her, for her crippled mentality, for her obsessive habits… he’d need to take some measure of action. He had the right to keep her safe as her only family and guardian, didn’t he?_

  
  
  


_When Lauren arrived back at the mansion that evening, face pink from the late winter chill, there was nothing off. Everything was normal… up until she opened the door and found two men waiting for her._

_“Who are you?” She asked, taking a step back warily. Never before had she seen these men, why were they here?_

_Suddenly, they stepped forward and took her by the arms, each movement in sync with the other. A cry of indignant anger escaped her throat as she struggled in their steel grips._

_“What is going on--!”_

_That was when she saw her uncle standing in the entrance hall, clad in his robe and slippers. The moonlight reached into the house and caressed the reflective surfaces of his glasses, giving him a cold, sinister energy. She had just opened her mouth to call out when he spoke up first._

_“This is for your own good, Lauren. Spending time with that monster won’t help you.”_

_His voice was sad, and he most likely_ was _genuinely concerned for her. But as of that moment, she could not accept any of this. She never would._

_“No! You can’t do this to me!” She growled. The men began to take her away. “Don’t you understand, Uncle? You may call him a monster, but I know better, I need him! What you’re doing will only hurt me more right now!”_

_When her words did nothing to affect the situation, she exploded in anger, but she could not do much. She was dragged to the docks kicking and screaming, raining curses on her uncle and her escorts until her voice turned hoarse._

_A boat was to carry her overseas, for however long it took for her to forget Kieran. Her uncle’s direct orders. When she found out, Lauren flew into another fit of rage and pitched a pair of glasses overboard._

_The second they hit land, she stormed off and barricaded herself in her temporary home. She did not speak to anyone for weeks._

_The first time she left the house on the beach, the moon was riding high and she had borrowed a boat from the piers. Her attempt to leave the island was cut short by a wild storm that seemed against her._

_Soon after, she was curled into a shivering ball on a small couch, in the house that was a prison, cursing the heavens through chattering teeth._

_And when her fever hit, she could do nothing but lie in a bed that wasn’t hers, refusing to let anyone help her and hallucinating images of him, him, him._

  
  
  


_Thus, Lauren’s very existence vanished from Ardhalis._

_._

_._

_._

  
  
  


_I should visit him… and this time_ , _my uncle can’t stop me. I won’t let anything keep me away._

Sitting up so that she could reach her bedside table, she switched on the small lamp that stood there before opening the drawer beneath it. The light gleamed as she pulled out a thin stack of photos. 

The first one was Kieran’s archivist identification picture, and she let loose a small, shaky chuckle. 

His hair was slicked back into the demure ponytail that she hated. Lauren much preferred when he pinned it up in a messy bun at the nape of his neck. The stray locks and tousled appearance made him seem gloriously carefree, whilst the archivist look felt strained. 

The next photo was one of the two of them. Kym had taken it, when she had insisted on a ‘double date’. Will had been dragged along in the role of ‘fourth wheel’, as the sergeant dubbed him. 

He looked lovely under the warm glow from the streetlights, softening his edges and filling his eyes with a fleeting moment of comfort. 

Lauren thumbed through the rest of the ridiculously few pictures, then tucked them away once more. She was just about to return to bed when she noticed the sheer white curtains blowing into her room. 

The balcony doors were open, sending a cold alarm pulsing down her spine like ice. They had been closed mere minutes ago. Slowly reaching for the knife she’d hidden under her pillow, her cautious footsteps carried her closer to the billowing swaths of white shadows. 

Now she could make out a darker silhouette outlined against the ghostly color. Someone she had not seen in a very long time. Someone whose shape she still distinctly remembered. 

Daring to hope, she lowered her blade the tiniest possible bit before calling out.

“Kieran?”

Her weapon jerked upwards, setting a ready stance as the figure moved. Before she could think about throwing the knife at the intruder, the balcony doors closed behind him and the curtains stilled. 

La Lune stood facing each other, finally reunited. 

_The cup had been left full._

_\---_

_Cuddle in your sheets_

_Sang me sound asleep_

_And sneak out through your kitchen at exactly 1:03_

_\---_

_“Kieran?”_

He closed his eyes, savoring the sweet chime of her voice. When he opened them again, she was gazing at him in wonder, those lovely twin suns of hers roaming over his entire being.

In turn, he did the same, drinking in the sight of his other half to refresh his memory. They remained at a standstill for a few more seconds, then the silence hanging between them shattered.

Twin cries fell from their lips as they lurched across the room towards each other, colliding into an embrace. As soon as Kieran had her in his arms, both of them burst into tears, trying to hold their partner as tightly as possible. 

“I missed you—”

“Me too—”

“I love you so much.”

Their weeping bled into the whispers, but they did not pay mind to this, instead sinking to the floor. The pair stayed there awhile, trembling and trying to familiarize themselves to the lover they hadn’t seen in years. 

When the tears had stopped falling, they wiped at their eyes, rubbing away the stinging sensations. 

“How did you—“

Lauren was the first to speak, her curiosity getting the best of her and causing her to blurt out the question.

He gave her a soft chuckle in return, and patted his pants pocket fondly, fingers feeling the shape of the cell key through the fabric.

“I had a little help.”

His goddess raised an eyebrow, contemplating whether or not to ask for further explanation. She decided not to press the matter. 

“What about you, _mon amour--_ I haven’t seen you in forever. What happened to you?”

The inquiry suddenly triggered the painful memories--of the time she had spent without him, exiled by her own kin and kept away from the love of her life. Tears welled up in her eyes once more, and it was only by the alarm on Kieran’s face that she realized she was crying again.

“He sent me away... he--he told me I couldn’t see you anymore…” she babbled between incoherent sobs, burying her face in his chest. 

“Shh… it’s alright darling, I’m here. I’m right here, for you.” 

And those were the last words spoken in the silent night, as the twin moons shone within the black.

_\---_

_Sundays went to church_

_On Mondays watched a movie_

_Soon you’ll be alone_

_Sorry that you have to lose me_

_\---_

_Do you have to go?_

_Don’t worry… I’ll be back._

_...all right. I love you._

  
  


_I love you._

  
  


The key secured the barred wall with a soundless turn, and slid into a cup of cold coffee just as the sun peeked over the far horizon.

Kieran slumped into his bed, his mind clouded with fatigue but wearing a dazed smile nevertheless. He pulled the dull blue covers up to his chin and let his eyes flutter shut, some sense of relief washing over him as he did so. 

Today, the pale sunlight failed to rouse him, and the sun was riding high in the afternoon sky when he finally rose from his dreamless sleep. He woke with a sigh of contentment, feeling much like a child who had just received a brand-new puppy. Only, the happiness that was currently blooming in his chest felt even better. 

Practically skipping up and out of bed, he did a few stretches before settling himself at his desk. Now that he’d been reacquainted with the taste of love and freedom, the repetition of his daily tasks in the tower’s cell seemed so terribly _boring,_ even more so than before.

However, when Audrey came to see if he had returned safely, he was quietly humming a chipper little tune to himself while he drew yet another portrait of Lauren. 

.

.

.

“I did it, Tori. I finally did it.”

“Did what, darling?”

Victoria’s impatient sigh filled the warm air of the cafe where the two friends were sitting. 

“I slipped the Purple Hyacinth the key to his happy ending.”

At that, the brunette’s eyes widened.

“ _Really!_ ”

“Yes! He was drawing her again just this morning. The key was returned to me, but I’m going to sneak it back to him soon.”

The excited shine in Audrey’s eyes dimmed when she finished her sentence. It remained there as the two girls stood and left, a nauseously worrying thought frowning at her from a corner of her mind. 

_‘I wonder, just how long this’ll go on before he--’_

_._

_._

_._

_Two months later._

“No! _No!_ ”

Lauren’s angry shrieks rang through the entrance hall of Sinclair Manor. Her uncle was standing just inside the door, his expression the same as it had been all those years ago when he’d forbidden her from seeing Kieran ever again. 

But she knew things were different now. For one, her meddling uncle was not the head of this Sinclair estate anymore, she was. And this time, she was not about to let him stop her. Especially this time, the only time, the last time.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Lauren. I thought you’d forgotten him, like I advised you to do. Remember, it’s for your own--”

“ _NO!”_

The feral snarl that burst forth was like that of an enraged lioness, golden eyes burning with power and authority.

“Listen to me, _Uncle._ ” She sneered, throwing on a thin coat and yanking on her gloves, “ _I don’t care._ I don’t _care_ what you think, because this is _my_ life you are trying to control, the love of _my_ life that you are keeping me from being with--”

She stomped her feet into her heeled boots and advanced on her uncle, causing him to retreat back into the street. 

“--and I know _exactly_ what is good for me! I decide that, and you don’t get a say in it. You have absolutely no right to stop me from doing whatever the hell I want. _Good day_.”

Slamming and locking the doors behind her, she seared an ice-cold look into her uncle’s unfeeling glasses. Hurrying past him and as soon as she turned the corner, out of sight, she took off sprinting towards the tower.

Her hysteria and short temper were extremely rare occurrences, she supposed. Even when Kieran teased her, riled her up, she could usually stop herself before she actually shot him.

But today was different. Today was going to be the worst day of her life. 

The sun was shining, the snowmelt was glistening on the streets, and he--

Kieran White was dying today.

-

Lauren had received the letter just this morning, a mere few hours ago. As she had been going through her mail in her pale white nightgown like always, she had discovered a letter personally addressed to her from one of the prison guards.

_Audrey Beckett to Ms. Lauren Sinclair_ , it had read, and when she had finished skimming the entire message she had burst into tears. Ignoring the alarmed squawks of her maids, she’d skipped breakfast and hurriedly dressed to go out. 

Her bed was left unmade, the warmth rapidly fading from where she’d lain, the tear-stained letter was stuffed haphazardly into her pocket, and an untouched cup of coffee watched this all silently from the kitchen.

.

.

.

The tower saw a burst of wild, bustling action that day, news spreading rapidly through the floors and walls, that the Purple Hyacinth was dying. 

Amidst the shouting and running about, the agitated sound of Lauren’s boots poked into her own head each time the heels stabbed into the floor. 

Even after being exiled, she remembered the entire layout of the tower, or at least the best ways to get to him. People flashed by as she thundered up the stairs to the top floor. 

_‘Please let me get there in time…!’_

Silently pleading with an unseen deity, she arrived at the top of the stairwell, huffing and out of breath. Sparing herself no longer than a millisecond of rest, she shot down the hall to his cell, where she could see a small crowd of prison staff. 

“Excuse me. Sorry,” she muttered, pushing through the throng of people to enter the cell. The door was standing ajar, almost as if it had been anticipating her and was welcoming her.

Quickly finding Kieran limp on his tiny bed with a few medics and guards standing by, she gave a low moan of anguish and rushed to his side. 

“Lauren… you’re here,” he sighed, relief appearing through the sickly, pale green colouring of his cheeks. 

“What happened?”

The question could’ve been directed at anyone, really. One of the medics piped up in a way of answering.

“He’s had heart disease for the past year or so, ma’am. Perhaps more. Our team’s therapist thinks it’s because of the stress disorder.” When Lauren cocked her head, beckoning more context, he continued. “Post-traumatic stress disorder, most likely due to the trauma of his forced murders.” The man’s voice faded into a quiet drone, all she could hear was the sound of her guilty ghosts screaming in her ears. 

  
  


“What?”

  
  


Her heart froze at those words, the rush of sorrow nearly sending her to her knees. Of course she’d known he hadn’t managed to let go of the guilt, but the fact that it developed into his death? 

Her soft, whispered utterance had made its way to Kieran’s ears, because he reached for her hand, seeking to reassure her. Maybe it was to console himself through her touch, as well. 

“It’s okay, Lauren, it’s not like you’re the one killing me.”

A vague feeling of familiarity found her from somewhere within those words, quickly shifting into a more painful clarity. It soon shifted into panic, flaring through her head. 

_Not again._ She’d promised herself, no more regrets. Not after them, Dylan, her parents, others that she couldn’t bear to name.

The tumultuous buzz of the crowd gathered outside finally managed to break into her senses. It made her head hurt, her stomach still churned with panic and she felt a wave of nausea roll over her. 

They were looking at him as if he were a dying animal, their eyes alight with nervous fascination and pitiful scorn. She felt a reciprocating hatred burn in her gut, he wasn’t some object they could gawk at. His death wasn’t a spectacle--

Unknowingly, she’d said the last part of her furious monologue out loud, and the medics quickly caught on. Swiftly gesturing at the murmuring audience, they stepped out.

Lauren opened her mouth now, possibly to request the onlookers to leave, but they moved first, clearing the entire floor. Only a few guards were left behind, and Kieran might’ve joked about the lax security underestimating her if he’d had the energy.

“Heh… you were worried about me?” 

“Looks like you still have it in you to joke during situations like this,” she replied, trying to keep her voice from trembling. 

He sighed again and closed his eyes, some unknown emotion painting itself across his face in a smile. Just looking at him made Lauren want to break.

“You know… I’m glad.” The breathy way he rasped his words did so much to her, soothing her before shaking her to her very core with urgent anxiety.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Ever since… everything, started all that time ago, I never thought I could escape. There was so much blood and dark--all around me, inside me, _caused by me_ \--it was everywhere. But then _you_ came along…”

Now there was nothing she could do to stop her throat from choking up, as if her sadness had compressed itself into a ball and settled into her windpipe. She’d heard this from him a few times before, rare occurrences in various circumstances. When he was drunk, or delirious with nightmares, or just felt all his vises to the bone in heartbreaking pain. 

He continued, unable to hear her thoughts.

“...it was like I’d been trapped in a blackout and you were that first light coming on, not a main light, but the first candle, or lantern. The beacon that provided a breath of air in the suffocating black. I was intrigued. And the better I got to know you, the more I worked with you as Lune.. gradually you had become the sun, shining your beautiful light in through the windows, the walls…”

_He’s rambling,_ she realized. Somewhere in the medic’s extended explanation, he’d mentioned that a patient with heart disease could become disoriented. But as of now, everything felt hazy. As if the clouds had descended from the heavens to wrap around them both, not just him. Kieran’s endless monologue finally registered once more.

“...doesn’t Sophia sound pretty? I--”

Lauren gently shushed him, bringing a finger against his lips. 

“Shh...Kieran, I have to know--” she swallowed, but only tightened the knot sitting in her throat, “--why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes glazed over in confusion. 

“Hmm? What do you mean, darling, I would never keep anything from y--well, there was that one time when--it was in this exact tower and I had--”

Apparently he still possessed enough common sense to clamp his mouth shut then, the look that she shot him was nothing less than scathing. 

“It may have been years but it’s still a horrible memory for me to recall. I’m sure it’s the same for you.” Her voice quivered, her lips drawn into a thin line as she struggled against her emotions.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and his dazed expression seemed to regain some clarity.

“I can’t really blame you, can I? Not now, not when you’re… like this.”

She gestured to him sadly, indicating his pale, sickly color, the soft huff of his slightly labored breathing, the limpness that rendered his body immobile.

It all felt like a dream. 

“This--this is such a mess. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

One could not tell who had spoken, the solemn, shivering whisper echoed in the void that was the coldness of the room.

  
  
  


And suddenly, everything felt even colder.

  
  


_A lone scream of searing grief shot away on the wind._

  
  


_The coffee was never drunk or spilt. Rather, in the end, it was left wholly untouched._

_\---_

_“Don’t stay awake for too long,_

_Don’t go to bed,_

_I’ll make a cup of coffee for your head,_

_I’ll get you up and going out of bed...”_

_\---_

The last words of the song faded away into the empty air. From the sky, the only patch of color visible was a head of fiery red, defiant among the dullness of the setting.

Lauren sighed, leaning forward to brush her fingers over Kieran's headstone. The grass was wet with dew and rain underneath her, but she ignored it to shuffle closer to the open grave. 

He had been buried just outside of Ardhalis, the authorities said that his presence would cause chaos in the city cemetery, even in death. She had wanted to argue, tell them that he deserved better, but kept herself from another angry outburst. She felt that would be one too many counting the fits she’d had as of late. Besides, her grief made her weary. Instead, she had glared at the tower, in the direction of the palace. She left, and saw his body to the casket, making sure he would rest in a comfortable position. 

Once he was settled in the yawning maw of his grave, she lingered awhile, not wanting to cut him off from the sun. Alone by the coffin’s side, her hands reached down and rubbed the smooth wooden lid sadly. 

_You have the right to remain silent._

“I guess you don’t have a choice _but_ to remain silent now.”

_Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law._

“Now, I fought the law with you, for you…”

  
  


_Don’t even bother. I’ll be gone before you finish reading me my rights._

  
  


“No, Kieran, I _should’ve_ bothered, because now, you’re gone before I could finish telling you more than just your rights. And I can’t bring you back.”

She didn’t move, her body still folded into a crouch by the open hole in the earth. Slowly, she sprinkled handfuls of dirt over the gap, watching as they speckled the casket below. Repeating the action for a few minutes, she was silent. 

Suddenly, she paused. Hesitantly getting to her feet, she turned to face the edge of the forest standing a short distance away from her.

At the base of the trees were new flowers, growing into the spring sunlight. Quickly she went over to pluck some daisies and examined their petals. They were still her favorite flower, and would probably always be. 

Finding herself back at his side, she sat again, this time dangling her legs over the edge. Plucking each soft, white petal off the head of the blossom, every last one floated down to rest atop Kieran’s casket. The last one she left intact. Holding it to her chest, she barely noticed when tears began running down her face again, the drops falling onto the daisy like morning dew.

“I won’t be able to tell you that I’ve fallen for you anymore, I won’t be able to hear you joke around, or brag about your talents of home decor… heh.”

She let out a soft, listless chuckle. 

The tears continued to fall.

“You already knew I loved you though, didn’t you? I know we never really made anything official… we just knew we cared for each other.”

There was no response.

“Remember when… we met at the Golden Clover the night we investigated Anslow as Lune…”

Her voice was breaking as she continued to speak to him.

“I guess dancing with the devil is… a once in a lifetime thing, huh…?”

The wind began to flutter through the trees.

“Truth is, Kieran… I would’ve danced with you a thousand times over anywhere, not just in pale moonlight, like you said.”

She had filled in the earth over his casket without realizing it.

Wordlessly crying, she carefully laid the daisy on his grave and covered up the stem so that the gales sweeping through the area could not carry it away.

“I’ll be back, my love… I promise, I’ll remember you. Always.”

Lauren stumbled backwards reluctantly, keeping her eyes fixed on the place she’d left him. It was difficult to see through the blinding curtain of tears constantly leaking from her pained golden eyes.

What she wouldn’t give to have him at her shoulder again, teasing her about how pensive her eyes looked. If only such a wish could be granted, she would do anything to have him back.

But now all she could do was live on with his memory, and wait for their reunion in another world. 

As she finally turned her back and walked away, the breeze followed her, playfully tossing her hair and trying to dry her tears. However, the wind wasn’t cold against her skin, instead it felt warm, its caress something akin to loving.

_I’ll wait for you, mon amour,_ it murmured to her. _And promise me you’ll keep going, don’t try to find me before it’s due. But I’ll miss you, so_

  
  


_Don’t stay away too long..._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> "Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time-"
> 
> Sorry, Tay, but I think I have to modify that line a bit for my sake. I rise up from the dead every million years to put out a jumbled interpretation of my thoughts and mental writing ideas, laden with the guilt of going MIA for forever.
> 
> AH. Nice to be back, darlings <3  
> I apologize for disappearing off the grid for quite a while--I was... preoccupied. High school can be a real bitch sometimes, just sayin'. I probably won't be around long, it'll be another while until I have the time to update. But I PROMISE all of you that I haven't forgotten about ph and writing for it, I just don't have the time as of now... *cries*  
> However, I've made an IG acc for ph under the name lovelybluelune!! I'll take whatever suggestions, constructive criticisms, fic requests, or just anything in general! I'll be more active there, most like :DDD
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this latest piece--and this might be just me, but the confusion that this one shot caused actually shed some clarity on the Wildest Dreams fic for me. I have now reached bounds of confusion that no man has crossed before. I consider it an achievement.
> 
> Now, off to get some much-needed sleep. TGIF. Much, much love,  
> -June


End file.
